


Love in the Time of COVID-19

by SelfEE



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:53:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27435397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelfEE/pseuds/SelfEE
Summary: Charlie and Sam are strangers that bump into each other at an airport two years before the time  of COVID began.  Their story will be told in three chapters titled BEFORE, DURING and AFTER.  Basically, it is a love story.





	Love in the Time of COVID-19

Love in the Time of COVID-19  
Charlie and Sam met at the airport two years before the time of COVID began. Their story will be told in three separate chapters. This is the first and is called BEFORE. Two more will follow; DURING AND AFTER.

BEFORE  
November, 2017

The Irish Pub at Port Haven International Airport was crowded. It was right before the Winter Holidays and Charlie Johnson was rushing to get home to be with her family. She was enjoying all the decorations and bright lights of the season that she forgot to look where she was going.

And she literally bumped into something that sent her sprawling in the middle of the busiest section of the airport.

“Hey, are you alright?” She heard a man’s voice somewhere behind her. She felt her body being lifted upwards.

And then there were many voices all around her, all wanting to know if they could be of any of help or how she was feeling. Even though she was upright, she still felt a bit dizzy. 

“You okay?” the man’s voice returned, only this time the voice was quieter. 

“Yes,” Charlie said, holding a hand up to her forehead. “A little dizzy though,”

“Come on,” the man’s voice continued, putting his arm around to steady her. “There are some lounge chairs over there. Why don’t we sit for a moment?”

He steered Charlie over to four massage chairs which were located in the middle of the mall area, directly across from the Irish Pub. 

Two security guards who had arrived on the scene were in the process of cleaning up the area. Charlie had some papers in a folder she was carrying along with her carry-on bag. The typewritten pages that were all over the floor had been picked up and were being stuffed haphazardly back inside the legal sized manila folder that they had fallen out of. The other security guard had wheeled her bag over to where she was sitting and was placed right by her feet, where she could see it. 

The man watched the two guards walk away and shook his head. He turned his gaze back to the woman who still had her head down. Her hand was still on her forehead and it looked as if she was keeping her head from falling off her neck.  
“You sure you’re alright? Do you need any help? I’m a doctor, but I’m off duty right now. I can still…”

When he said he was a doctor, Charlie looked up and smiled. The dizziness was fading and was being replaced by hunger pains. In fact, her stomach began to growl.

“I’m feeling much better now, thanks for your help. “ She stood up and weaved a bit, but the doctor was there and he steadied her.   
The doctor smiled and stood up. He placed his arm around her shoulders. 

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

She nodded. “I was on my way over to the pub when I bumped into something.”

The man nodded. “That was my painting that you bumped into.”

Charlotte looked at the doctor or rather at the cardboard box he was holding up to show her. The box was slightly bent and ripped in the middle.

Her mouth formed a perfect O as she stared at the package. “Oh I’m so sorry, it was my fault. I should have stopped to admire the decorations. I hope nothing’s broken. If it is, I can replace it.”

“I don’t think it is; the thing is wrapped up pretty tightly.” 

He took it out of the cardboard box and checked to see if anything was broken or ripped. What he hadn’t expected to see or hear was a piece of loose glass fall from the plastic wrapping. He looked up at her. 

“Let me replace it for you, I insist. Can I take a look at the original painting? Is it from a well-known artist? I can duplicate it for you, if you want, it’s up to you.”

“Let’s talk about it over sandwiches and coffee,” the doctor said. “The pub just before security check in has some really great Rueben sandwiches and they come with fries. What do you say?”

Charlotte nodded. “It sounds good to me, although I may just settle for a tuna sandwich.”

They took a seat at one of the front tables which was located outside the pub. This way they had more room to try to unwrap the painting. 

They both ordered their sandwiches and began to talk. His name was Sam Morton and he just started as an emergency room doctor at Port Haven Memorial after having accepted a position there. He had come from the village of North Edgewater, which, he told her, was right in the center of the tiny country of Haven and was where his family still resided. His family still lived there, in fact, that’s where he was headed, to be with his family. No, he was widower; having lost his wife to breast cancer last year. He did have two children, however. They were both boys, Stefan, the oldest at 21 and Sam Jr. at 18. Sure, it was busier here than in North Edgewater, but he preferred that way. He loved being a doctor and he loved saving lives. He never felt good about losing a life, but those was far and few between. And yes, he was thinking about retiring, he was nearing sixty four. It had always been in the back of his mind, but he had just never acted on it. 

Charlotte smiled when Sam mentioned that he worked at Port Haven Memorial. She explained that she had been a nurse there. Why had she given it up? Well, for one thing, now that her husband was dead, she wanted to be close to her two girls, Olivia and Emma. They were twins; Olivia being the oldest at 21. And for another thing, she painted in her spare time and after advertising on Facebook and other social media, she had built up a following. As her commissions grew, so did her success and was asked to participate in a number of shows. And so, at sixty two, she retired and took up painting full time. She set up her own studio in her back yard, in an old garage that she and her late husband converted into a guesthouse. And yes, she could paint anything from landscapes to portraits to pets and wildlife, although she preferred portraits and pets.   
“Funny,” Charlotte said, smiling at him, “I still have family in North Edgewater myself. My sister and her husband still live there.”

Sam smiled. “This is all too much. The only family named Johnson in the village is the…..”

Charlie laughed. “Jeffrey Johnson was my high school sweetheart. Jeff died of a heart attack at 68.”

“Yes, I know,” Sam said, “Everyone knew him. I had no idea that you were…”

“Charlotte Weston,” she said, looking at him, “Everyone called me Charlie.”

Sam nodded. “All my friends had a crush on you. “

Charlie frowned. “Funny I’ve never seen you hanging around,”

Sam smiled. “That’s because I went to boarding school, Ms. Weston.”

Charlie shook her head. “Actually, Weston is my maiden name. It’s Johnson, remember? And you can call me Charlie.”

Sam nodded and asked for the check. That’s when it was announced that the planes would be grounded due to blizzard conditions. Everyone would have to find accommodations at least for one night, maybe two. 

They found a room at the Airport Marriott. It was the last one that they had available and they were lucky it had a double bed. They talked the night through and before they went to into their separate beds, Sam unwrapped the painting. 

“Be careful, Charlie,” Sam said, as all the glass fell to the floor. The painting, which was oil on canvas, had been smeared by some of the glass fragments.

Charlie gave it a thorough examination. She loved the subject and she told Sam that the painting would be easy for her to duplicate. In fact, she told him, she even had a frame she could give him.

As it turned out, the flight to North Edgewater was cancelled permanently. And it wasn’t It wasn’t until they left the hotel two days later, when Charlie was back in her studio that she began to think about Sam as a potential suitor. It became a regular thing with them to call every night and spend the weekends and holidays together. 

It took six months before they married, with their kids blessing. Life was good.

DURING  
March 2020

Charlie Johnson Morton put down the paintbrush and stood away from her picture. It was coming along nicely and she hoped that the entire series of paintings she was working on would be finished in time for her three year anniversary. It was to be a series of six paintings and this one was the last one. Charlie wasn’t sure what the client where the client what the client was going to do with them, but that wasn’t her concern. Right now, it was all about getting them done as soon as possible.  
Satisfied with the way it came out, she placed the painting with the others in a small room, across from the studio. This small room was added two years ago in case Charlie needed a break and wanted to take a short nap and resume working. It contained a futon, two chairs, a book shelf, a large flat screen tv and a small fridge for drinks and left over take out. If she needed anything, Sam usually brought it to her and left it outside her door to pick up later, unless it was food. At that point, he would call to let her know that he was leaving food for her and she’d take it inside.

She had just finished up with her last client, a woman who wanted her portrait painted as a birthday present to her mother, when her cell phone beeped. She checked it and noticed it was a message from the North Haven Health Department.

Charlie was in shock as she stared at the message.

“How can I be positive?” she said out loud. “I don’t have any symptoms.”

Well, she thought as she put her phone down. She had been coughing and had a bit of sore throat. Her doctor had recommended getting a test and gave her authorization to get tested. 

The hospitals were filling up with COVID-19 patients at the fastest rate he ever saw. There were no open beds left, the emergency room was filled to capacity and people were out in the hallways.

And then she thought about the phone call she had gotten from Sam the week before.

“We haven’t been able to get the proper PPE.”

Charlie frowned. “What do you mean by the proper PPE?”

“Well, you know, Char,” he told her. “It stands for personal protective equipment. There’s a real shortage of masks, ventilators and, above all, nurses. People are dying so fast that we’re not sure what to do with the bodies. They’re recommending that we use the same masks and more than once or use cloth masks, bandanas or anything to cover your mouth and nose.”  
“I hear that there are lots of people making masks and giving them to whoever needs them.”

“Yeah we heard that too, but so far there hasn’t been much of a change.” Sam sighed. “Listen Char, I’ve got some bad news, though. I don’t really want to infect you or your clients, so I’ve decided to quarantine myself to see if I have the disease. I’ll be at the Inn and Out Motel in North Haven if you need to call me.”

He called her every single night until the he told her that the results of his test had come back negative. And that’s when she told him that she tested positive.

Sam and Olivia took care of her, left all her meals outside the door. He had set up a sterile environment for her and looked in on her from time to time. She was starting to feel better and looked as if she was getting well, until the next day when she took a turn for the worse.

He called ambulance and was taken to ICU where she was intubated and placed on a ventilator to help her breathe.  
Two days later, she was gone.

AFTER  
July 4, 2020

Sam Morton was off in a daydream again, staring straight at what was Charlie’s studio. It was four months since she passed away and, even though he had the place disinfected immediately, he hadn’t been inside or anywhere near it since. Their third anniversary in May came and went without much fanfare, except for the kids reminding him of the occasion.   
He hadn’t bought the tickets because of the pandemic. Too many people getting sick on cruises, Sam told them as he watched other people being first tested and then quarantined on ships which seemed like forever. 

So that was out.

Then the boys tried to convince Sam to sell the house and move somewhere else. After the studio and the house were disinfected in early June, both were put up for sale, but when someone became interested, Sam backed off and took it off the market. 

The girls insisted that he take a vacation, but with the lockdown and the stay at home orders, Sam decided, because even though he was newly retired, he was going on 65 years old. He decided that the best thing for him to do was stay put.   
The kids had bought tickets to the annual Fourth of July cruise around Haven. It was a three hour dinner cruise to a private location where you could watch the fireworks, on or off the boat. When they asked Sam if he was interested, he refused to go, using the pandemic as an excuse. And he was proven right, when the entire thing was cancelled anyway.

So that was out, too. 

In fact, everything he knew was cancelled due to COVID-19 this year. It just didn’t feel like it was even a holiday this year, especially when Sam was used to barbecues, sparklers and fireworks.   
Sam stood in the living room still staring at Charlie’s studio. Four months had passed and he missed her. He missed her so much. Their time together was short, but that didn’t matter. For the first time in his life, he found someone he could love and care for and Char fit the bill. They were inseparable.

The cruise that they were going to take to Italy to celebrate their anniversary had to be cancelled due to the pandemic, but Sam received a credit for next year. Charlie promised him to replace that painting that she had bumped into the day they met, but she never came through. Not that he was angry about it, but she kept promising and promising and promising. She told him she had it done and that it would take time, but she didn’t tell him anything else. 

He knew that the picture was in the studio, he just had to find out where. 

“Pop,” Emma’s voice called from the back yard. “Sam Jr. and I found something you might be interested in.”

“Be right down,” Sam said, as he took one last look at the studio and turned away from the window. 

“Hey, I hope you didn’t go crawling through Char’s studio without a mask and gloves because you know…”

“Pop,” Sam Jr., said as his father joined the two of them on the back deck. “The place has been disinfected and left open for three months. No one’s been in it at all. I’m very sure it’s safe. Anyway, there’s a wrapped package with your name on it.”

Sam frowned. “Where was it? We’ve been all over that studio, we’ve been all over the…”

“Pop,” Emma said, “It wasn’t even in the studio, well, it was, but we found it in a small enclosed closet where she kept her paint supplies. “

She picked it up and handed it to him. 

“Be careful,” she told him. “It’s a little heavy.”

Sam ignored her as he took the black garbage back in his hands. “Feels like two wrapped packages,” he said, opening up the bag. 

Sam reached in and felt two packages in there, hand wrapped in what looked like decorated paper bags. He opened the package carefully, trying not to rip the beautiful paper and found six square canvases, each one 24 x 24 inches, perfect for a one or two people in the picture.

Finding the painting blank, Sam turned the canvases over and stared at the first one, then he went to the second and then the third. 

When he reached the last one, he found a hand written note inside a folder. It was on top of a picture, a picture that he had been waiting for, a picture that she bumped into over three years ago.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he turned to face his two children, who had been waiting silently watching him.

“Dad?” Emma said, staring at him, “Are you okay?”

Sam shook his head. He tried to speak, but no words would come. The tears came too quickly and he ran out the back door in the direction of the studio, but stopped short of it. Emma and Sam Jr., watched out the window as he sat down on the bench in Charlie’s small flower garden, a garden situated right in front of the studio entrance, where clients could walk through on their way in. The bench was for waiting clients.

Sam Jr. and Emma stared at one another and Emma picked up the painting with the folder on top of it. She gave the painting to Sam Jr to hold and opened up the folder, much like her father had done.

She picked up the letter and stared at Sam Jr., who encouraged her to read it aloud.

“My dear Samuel,”  
“The painting you are holding in your hand is the painting you were carrying that I so carelessly bumped into, almost destroying it. I told you that I’d be able to duplicate it and, since I was so busy, I worked on it slowly. I wanted to give it to you on our first anniversary, but I had a better idea. I wanted to make a series of paintings, twelve in all, as a reminder of our time together, a kind of remembrance that we could look back on in our old age.

I used the best pictures of our travels together, pictures of you and me as youngsters and pictures of our children separately and together. I wanted something we could share together, that could be passed down from one child to another.   
So here they are, enjoy these twelve paintings that I was able to get done to this point in time. So happy anniversary, my darling, this is my present to you. I am hoping to add more as our year’s together progress.

By the way, the reason I told you that it would be easy to duplicate this painting so perfectly is because the original that I bumped into, was mine all along. It was a painting of me as a ten year old girl standing in our back yard in North Edgewater, looking toward the rising sun and dreaming of my future. The photo I took it from is attached. Enjoy them, my darling.

I’ll love you always,  
Charlie”

Emma looked up, her cheeks wet with tears. Sam Jr. opened up his arms and she ran to him.   
“Come on, Emma, let’s go cheer him up. The others should be here soon, let’s put our father at ease.”

And together, hand in hand, brother and sister left the house and walked toward their father and sat beside him on the bench.

My inspiration for this story comes in many forms. It started off as a tribute to the many dedicated healthcare workers who put their own lives on the line to save the lives of others, but it has grown in size. It is also a tribute to the many of men, women and children who have passed from this horrible disease or illnesses related to it. There are several in my complex who have died, two of which I have known personally.


End file.
